


too dark in this bar tonight

by midnightrambles



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:11:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightrambles/pseuds/midnightrambles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pat sits up in bed, pulling the sheets to pool around his body. He sighs. “Why are you calling, Dustin?”</p><p>“Please tell me you watched the Hawks win tonight?”</p><p>“Yeah, I did. What about it?”</p><p>“Well they are coming to Roof tonight, like real soon. And I need my best employees on board.”</p><p>OR</p><p>Everyone knows about Jonathan Toews obsession with blond bottle servers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	too dark in this bar tonight

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has been in my head for months now and i finally got the time to write it. jonny is still jonny but patrick is not and has nothing to do with hockey. 2013 playoff results still stand however. 
> 
> title is from john legends 'save the night'
> 
> please let me know if you have any feedback/criticism!

The loud blast of his ringtone sounds in the air and Pat groans as he rolls over in bed, pillow now firmly over his face. He lets it ring for another five seconds before reaching for it across his nightstand. 

“Why the fuck are you calling me at one in the morning?” Not his best greeting but at this point Pat doesn’t really fucking care, especially not when he _just_ fell asleep.

“Ah, Patty, don’t be like that,” Dustin, his boss, croons over the line. “I just wanted to see how my favourite employee is doing.”

Pat sits up in bed, pulling the sheets to pool around his body. He sighs. “Why are you calling, Dustin?”

“Please tell me you watched the Hawks win tonight?”

“Yeah, I did. What about it?”

“Well they are coming to Roof tonight, like real soon. And I need my best employees on board.”

Pat groans. “I’m in bed, Dustin, and fucking exhausted. Plus, I don’t work Monday nights.”

“Well, technically it’s Tuesday morning, Patty,” Dustin chuckles and Pat wants to slap him so hard through the phone. “Come on, Pat. The payout will be nice and hey maybe you can hook up with one of the players’ friends or something.”

“Great incentive, Boss,” Pat huffs, “Who else did you rope into this?”

“Ashley’s the main girl because hello, I’m not stupid. Then Katy and I am hoping you. All you have to do is help the girls and make sure the guys aren’t stupid with them. It’ll be pretty easy.”

If Pat didn’t need the money he would have hung up on Dustin already. “You are the worst,” Pat groans out as he cracks his back. “Okay, fine. When do I need to be in?”

Cheering filters over the line. “You are the best, Patty! Be here in a half hour. Hell, make it forty-five so you can get all pretty,” Dustin chuckles. “I’ll make sure you get a proper cut of the tips tonight.”

“Let me drink on the job and I’ll forget that you called me up at one in the fucking morning.”

“If the table gives you shots, I won’t fire you - barring you don’t get sloppy.”

“Deal,” Pat agrees hurriedly. He doesn’t get to drink on the job as much as his friends like to think he does.

“But don’t get your hopes up, bud. Unless your tits somehow get bigger than Ashley’s in the next 30-ish minutes.”

Pat calls him a fucker right before he hangs up. Time to get to work.

*

It’s harder (or easier really, depending on how you look at it) to try to look cute for work in the club-slash-lounge industry as a guy because Pat only really has the option of black dress pants with a matching button down. The girls get (or rather are really encouraged) to wear skin tight black dresses or short skirts with a shirt that resembles a bra. So it doesn’t take long for Pat to get ready for work, spending a little more time on his hair than usually because hey - there will be plenty of eyes on the club tonight and you never know who may be in attendance. 

Pat gets to Roof sooner rather than later, the excitement of the Stanley Cup and its champs being there soon is definitely heady in the air. Everyone is bustling around, trying to make the club as ready as possible. Pat heads to the back to staff area.

“God damn, girl, how do you always look so good?”

Pat’s words cause Ashley to laugh as she applies bubblegum pink lipstick, their eyes meeting in the mirror.

“Au naturale just like you, Patty.”

Pat laughs as he comes up behind her, pushing her long black hair back and kisses her cheek lightly before resting his chin on her shoulder. 

“Tonight’s going to be a long night.”

“It’ll be fun,” Ashley says, her eyes widening. “These guys always party hard when they come here and now tonight will be even better. Plus,” she pauses as her lips part for effect, “some of them are really cute.”

“Trying to find yourself a hockey player husband, huh?”

Ashley laughs. “Or a fuck for the night. I’m not picky.”

Pat slides his hands around her middle, lightly cupping her breasts. “Oh, I know you’re not.”

“And maybe they aren’t either.”

Their eyes are locked on each other, Ashley’s lips quirked into an easy grin. Pat makes a face before dropping his hands lower, settling against her ribs. 

“Pretty sure none of these hockey dudes are into dick,” Pat dismisses easily, “And I’m not looking for that tonight, am I? I just want to get paid then fuck off to bed and not wake up before four o’clock in the afternoon.”

He feels Ashley bump her right shoulder into his, a frown on her face through the mirror. “Come on, Pat. These kinds of shifts are fun. We serve, make tips and fuck around a little. Don’t tell me you’re not going to do that tonight.”

Pat shrugs. “I don’t really want to get beat up by jocks,” He says drily. Pat drags his fingers back up to her chest, tugging her shirt down lower, grin on his face. “Just make sure you get us lots of tips and I’ll be happy.”

Ashley turns to Pat, tapping his cheek lightly. “Alright, babe. Let’s go make some money.”

\- 

Dustin hustles everyone into back, a lot more staff than what he had stated to Pat over the phone.

“Okay, listen up,” He says, stature strong, face bright with a smile. “Tonight needs to run as smooth as a baby’s ass! I don’t want any problems.” He pauses as his eyes scan the room. “It’s going to be a lot bigger than I first thought. Tonight we are at the whim of the entire Chicago Blackhawk’s organization and their friends and family. We’re going with Ashley, Katy and Pat for the main table which will be where we need the most service. Tina, Kelly and Sam will be floating the back tables. Pat, check in with them as well if the main table looks okay.”

Pat nods along, already knowing the routine. He isn’t the biggest guy but when important figures of society come to Roof they pull out all the stops; Pat usually carries in Ashley on his shoulders, the biggest of bottle of Dom Perignon securely in her hands, trailed by a third (usually Katy). After that shtick, Pat is usually just around to clear tables, bring more bottles and make sure the girls are bothered (too much anyway). He’s hoping tonight won’t ask any more of him. 

“We don’t want to tell anyone ‘no’ tonight. If we run out of the liquor they want, you give them something else. Ken and Trev,” Dustin points over to the chefs who sometimes cooks for the club when there are special events, “have been preparing a great spread so let’s make sure every table has food. Other than that, let’s have a great fucking time and celebrate our champs!”

A cheer goes around the room before the employees break up to get into their roles. Pat slides his arms around Ashley and Katy, smiling his biggest smile.

“Ready?”

Katy - a leggy blonde with a chest to match - kisses his cheek. “Lead the way, Patty.”

Minutes later with Ashley securely on his shoulders, Pat walks carefully into the dark club, music now dulled, with the other staff trailed behind him with sparklers and bottles of vodka and champagne. When they reach the table, Ashley hoists a ridiculously large bottle of champagne in the air and shouts “the champs are here!” which receives a deafening cheer in return. She dances for a moment on Pat’s shoulders when the music returns to full volume but when Pat taps her knee she stops and is ready to dismount. 

Pat turns to the group of tired-yet-very-drunk looking hockey players, all banged up and scruffy wearing stupid smiles and backward caps. Pat’s recognizes most of them without their jerseys but it’s definitely a little surreal to see them now - here with the cup. The Stanley Cup sits proudly on top of the table, now surrounded by champagne and vodka bottles, with the captain’s heavy hand resting under the top. The next twenty minutes go by with Pat and the girls serving out vodka cranberries and vodka Sprites to the team. The captain – Jonathan Toews with a horrible muttonchop beard – says a ridiculous toast to his team that’s filled with swears every two words. But he’s happy as is everyone else and there isn’t a player or team member that isn’t hooting and hollering by the end of it. Toews pops the champagne and thoroughly soaks the crowd (Pat, Ashley and Katy run for cover as quickly as they can).

The night runs pretty smoothly, easing into early morning before Pat knows it. He and Ashley do a few shots with the guys – Shaw and Bollig – before Pat leaves to check on the back tables. Most of the players and personnel are drunk, their happiness easy and contagious. Pat walks by a table where Katy is now sitting in one of the players’ laps, laughing as he whispers something into her ear. Pat grins and shoots her a wink which she returns coyly. 

As he reaches the bar, leaning over the counter to shout to Jamier the bartender for another bottle of Grey Goose, a hand slides around Pat’s back, fingers settling lightly on his ribs. Pat is hit with the strong smell of booze as a gush of breath floats over the back of his neck.

“Hey, this is fuckin’ awesome.”

Pat turns his head and is greeted with a drunk smile from the captain – Toews. Pat laughs.

“Well, you guys deserve it. Great series, man. 17 seconds!”

A look of surprise takes over Toews’ drunk expression for a moment before he breaks out in a hearty laugh. 

“Fuckin’ rights! It was fuckin’ insane but we didn’t quit, you know?” His entire face lights up that Pat can’t help but find him attractive – gross muttonchops and all. “You watch hockey?”

“Not as much as I’d like but yeah. Grew up in Buffalo so I’m a Sabres fan.”

“Pity,” Toews teases. He slowly removes the hand covering Pat’s ribs and offers it. “Jonny.”

Pat smiles wryly, taking his hand. “Hi, Jonny. I’m Pat.”

“You are fuckin’ gorgeous,” Jonny says with a grin. 

Pat’s heard it all before but it still makes his skin flush warm. “I think you’ve had enough to drink, Stanley Cup Champ.” He laughs it off.

Jonny though just uses that as fuel. Pressing close so he’s trapping Pat against the bar, Jonny’s thigh slipping in between Pat’s. Jonny leans in, lips brushing against the shell of Pat’s ear as he says, “You are so fuckin’ gorgeous I could fuck you for days."

Pat shivers for a moment before he gets control of himself, forcing out a laugh, leaning back far enough so he can look at Jonny. “I need to get back to your table. Your boys are expecting more bottles.”

“If,” Jonny starts, not letting up at all, his much bigger body still framing most of Pat’s “it means their captain gets to score I don’t think they’ll mind waiting a bit.” His grin is huge, eyes a little wild. If Pat’s honest – it’s not unwanted… just unexpected and he really doesn’t know how to respond. So he cops out, pushing Jonny away gently so he can turn back around to get Jamier’s attention. Jonny though, presses against his back one last time, laughter puffing out against his neck. “Offer still stands,” he says before peeling away altogether. 

For a moment, Pat misses the heat of Jonny’s body against his but he shakes off quickly. He’s been here before and has learned his lesson. Straight jocks/athletes only want to fuck around with him when they are plastered and hey, maybe Pat was into it when he was younger but he knows better now, knows he can get one night stands from guys who won’t deny it the next morning. Pat’s done with the self-depreciation phase of his life. Jonny may end up being a good lay – a great fucking lay even – but it’s not worth the walk of shame that will inevitably happen later. 

With the bottle of vodka in hand, Pat walks back up to the main table and passes it to Ashley who begins to open it while Pat arranges the correct amount of glasses with ice. Once Ashley has poured out the alcohol with the appropriate mix, they both start handing them out to the guys, Pat deliberately avoiding Jonny until he can’t.

“Thanks, Pat,” Jonny murmurs as he wraps his fingers around Pat’s to retrieve the glass, lips smiling. 

Pat leans in so others can’t hear. “I should cut you off.”

Jonny laughs. “Like your boss would let you. Come on, Pat,” He shuffles in closer, their cheek brushing each others. “If you’re not into it, then tell me. But…” His eyes narrow, his lips still formed in that stupid smug smile. “I have a feeling you are.”

Something burns bright and deep in Pat – not quite desire, more like the inkling of anger. “Oh, Jonny, don’t get me wrong – I’m into dick,” Pat pauses for a split second before letting his body make his decisions before his mind can catch up. His lips are right next to Jonny’s ear, not quite touching but just almost so. “But I’m not into dicks who just want to get off then are straight again.” He quickly darts out his tongue, just enough to brush against Jonny’s lobe before pulling his body back completely. 

Jonny’s body does this delicious shudder-shiver that has Pat feeling smug. 

“ _Fuuuuuck._ ” Jonny breathes. His eyes close for second before he looking right at Pat again. “Pat…”

Pat shakes his head, saying “I have a job to do. Let me know if you need anything else” before he walks towards the staff area in the back. Once the door closes behind him, Pat slumps against it, eyes closed tight as he breathes in deep.

“What’s wrong, Patty?”

His eyes fly open, the voice startling him but he relaxes a little when he sees Ashley sitting on a chair, phone in her hand. Pat shakes his head as he tries to put on a smile. “Just tired, you know?”

“Come here,” Ashley says, patting the chair next to her. Pat follows, dropping into it without any effort. “Let’s try this again. What’s wrong?” The frown on her face is telling Pat she’s not going to take bullshit as an answer.

“Straight hockey players wanting to fuck because they are drunk.”

It sounds a lot more self depreciating once it’s out of his head. Pat winces. 

“Oh, Patty,” Ashley sympathizes. She reaches forward and takes his hand between hers. “The scruffy one who had you against the bar?”

Pat flushes. “Yeah. Like what the fuck?”

Ashley laughs lightly. “Something about all that has me thinking he may not be completely straight, Patty.”

“He’s drunk.” Pat shuts it down completely. 

But she shrugs. “He wasn’t exactly hiding his intentions from everyone by doing that though. Like… that takes balls, Patty. He’s a club full of people – yeah most of them are with the team and friends – but in this day and age of social media, he must be really into you if he’s willing to ignore the possible consequences.”

Pat snorts. “Or just really fucking drunk. And stupid.”

That earns him a light punch to the arm but it breaks the mood he was in so he hugs Ashley tight before they head back out. Pat decides that he’s just going to continue ignoring it, no matter how flattering it may be.

The night continues to run smoothly, however. No major hiccups (barring the fact that one of the player’s girlfriends ate something that had nuts in it when she’s allergic) and Pat’s feeling pretty good that he’ll clear over a few grand in just tips. He’s thinking about how he’s going to spend that money when a hand settles on his shoulders.

“Hey, Pat, right?”

Pat turns around to a face that’s happy and mischievous at the same time. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Here.” A shot class full of clear liquid is pushed into his hands. “That’s from my good bud and captain, Jonny. I’m Sharpie by the way,” he – Sharpie – says with a grin. He nudges his head in the direction of where Jonny is standing with another teammate and girlfriend, trying and failing to act like he isn’t glimpsing over at Pat and Sharpie every few seconds.

Pat laughs but accepts the shot. “Are all of you hockey players this crazy regularly or are you just exceptionally drunk tonight?”

“A little bit of both,” Sharpie laughs. “You want to help me do something?”

“What?”

“You see Jon over there?” Sharpie nods again towards his captain, “is super fucking fun to prank. And I have no idea what the fuck you did to him but he wants in your pants, man, like bad.” Sharpie laughs to himself like it is funniest fucking thing. “So I was thinking – what if I did this?” Sharpie’s fingers trail up his arms until they are resting at the base of Pat’s neck, playing with the tips of his hair. “You should probably laugh right now, like I’m telling you the best fucking joke of your life.”

“You are probably the worst teammate ever,” Pat says before he starts laughing and he hopes doesn’t sound too put on because this entire situation is ridiculous enough for it to be genuine. 

“Take the shot.”

When Pat obeys and pulls the glass away from his lips once the liquid is all gone, Sharpie brings up his free hand and wipes away non existent drops from Pat’s bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Ah,” Sharpie says, fighting the smirk that’s creeping its way onto his lips, “I am a fucking genius.”

Pat doesn’t have time to ask him what he means because someone stalks up to them, body right behind his.

“What the fuck, Sharpie?”

Jonny’s voice makes Pat shiver slightly but the urge to laugh takes over. 

“What’s wrong, Toes? I was just talking here with my good friend, Pat.”

Jonny steps forward into Pat’s line of view. He still looks very much so drunk but now it’s tinged with a bit of anger.

“Sharpie…”

Sharpie laughs before he leans in close to Pat, bringing their cheeks together. “You’re welcome,” he whispers into Pat’s ear before slinking away.

Pat’s shaking with laughter as he turns to Jonny who looks like he’s going to explode. Pat has to admit it's kind of fucking hot. “Whoa there, hot shot. Let’s get you another drink.”

Jonny’s about to open his mouth when Pat shakes his head and wraps his fingers around Jonny’s wrist and leads them to the back of the club to the most secluded part of the bar.

“Jamier! Shot of Jack, please.”

“Make it two,” Jonny shouts out from behind him. It doesn’t take long for Pat to find himself crowded against the counter. 

“Fuck, Pat,” Jonny whispers against the back of his neck. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Pat fights down the urge to both rock back against Jonny and snort. “Doing what?” 

Hands slide around his middle, fingers creeping up the hem of his shirt. “Come home with me.” It’s not something new that happens when he’s working – being propositioned to go home with guys, or hell even just to the restrooms or alley outside. And Pat won’t deny it, he’s done his fair share of fucking around while working but something about this – about Jonny – won’t let him be so easy.

Pat doesn’t reply just waits for Jamier to get him the shots of whiskey before turning to Jonny, holding one up for him. “Here.”

Instead of taking it out of Pat’s grasp, Jonny covers Pat’s hand with his own, brings the shot up to his lips and shoots it back easily.

The image of Jonny with his head thrown back, eyes closed, throat working to get the liquid down does something incredibly hot to Pat. Jonny’s eyes slowly open once he’s done, tongue poking out in search of any stray drops. He gives Pat approximately two seconds before he presses his lips hard against his. It’s not an amazing kiss in any sense – Pat is too shocked more than anything – and it ends too quickly when Jonny pulls back. 

“Come home with me.”

“Jonny…”

Jonny crowds his space again and drops a hand to cup Pat through his dress pants and Pat can no longer hide how this is affecting him.

“Pat…”

“I can’t just leave, Jonny,” Pat barely gets out as Jonny tightens his grip. “ _Jonny_.”

“Fuck… we have a bus outside… Can we…?”

Patrick laughs – because what the fuck is his life. “Yeah, fuck… Let’s go.”

He doesn’t know what his excuse is. At least Jonny can blame his idiocy on alcohol and exhaustion of playing a grueling sport with an even worse schedule. Pat went from no to yes in less than a few minutes, with a flex of fingers against his dick. Albeit, having Jonathan Fucking Toews all but begging to fuck you is a heady feeling – Pat must admit. But in the end Pat still lets himself be pulled by Jonny’s grip on his wrist.

When they reach the bus (more like party bus), Jonny knocks on the door and says, “out” as sternly as he can manage to the driver. The driver nods before he scrambles to leave.

“Uh…”

“NDA,” Jonny replies to Pat’s hesitance, tugging on his wrist as he leads the way onto the bus. 

The bus is huge, limousine like and when Jonny pushes him back Pat lets himself fall against the cushions, skin feeling a little hot, nerves a little more on edge. Then Jonny’s covering his body, lips firmly sealed together and Pat stops thinking. His fingers sink into the muscles of Jonny’s strong shoulders, his legs coming up to wrap around his middle, feet digging into the small of Jonny’s back. It earns him a moan against his lips, making Pat hungry for more. Jonny tastes like liquor – vodka, champagne and the shot of Jack Daniels he just consumed but Pat wants Jonny to leave tasting like nothing but Pat.

Never one to be passive during sex, Pat whispers Jonny’s name against his lips before moving his hands from his shoulders down and over smooth biceps until they are covering Jonny’s. Then he moves their joined hands to the front of his shirt, hoping Jonny gets where he’s going.

And he does. “Fuck, Pat,” Jonny breathes out as he makes quick work of the buttons on Pat’s shirt, fingers pressing into smooth skin. “Want to…” Instead of finishing the thought, Jonny leans down and runs his tongue over Pat’s chest, earning a hiss out of him when he wraps his lips over Pat’s nipple. Jonny’s fingers don’t stop either. It takes a few tries but finally Jonny has Pat’s dress pants unzipped and open, fingers wasting no time pull his dick out of his underwear. Jonny takes one long slow stroke that has Pat groaning out again, loud in the dark bus, while his hips drive forward. Sucking kisses along his chest and stomach, Jonny slides off Pat to kneel in front of him, head tilting up so their eyes meet.

“Pat… fuck. You are so gorgeous.”

Then Jonny’s lips are around Pat’s cock, sucking at the head lightly before going all the way down. Pat’s lets his head drop, eyes closing, before he realizes he needs to see this, needs to watch Jonny swallow him down with almost perfect ease. Pat can feel the back of Jonny’s throat for a quick second before Jonny pulls off completely to take in a deep breath, face seizing up like he’s going to cough but he doesn’t. 

“Hey, Jonny. Jonny,” Pat coaxes, hands sliding through Jonny’s hair as he tries to get him to look at him. 

“Easy okay?” His voice is a lot softer than he intends it to be but it earns him a smile from Jonny that has his breathing stopping for a moment. Pat lets his fingers slide down Jonny’s cheek, rough against his beard before he lightly taps him there. 

Jonny’s eyes flutter shut for a moment before he opens them back up and moves his lips back against Pat’s dick. Pat doesn’t remove his hands from Jonny’s face. Instead, he keeps them there, rubbing his fingertips against the rough scrape of his beard, to outline idle patterns behind his ear. They get into a rhythm that has Pat chasing his orgasm with steady pumps of his hips, Jonny’s name steady stream on his lips. When Pat comes, Jonny’s fingers grip tightly against his thighs, enough that Pat knows he will have bruises, enough that he shivers long after his cock is spent, Jonny cleaning him up little licks.

“Fuck, Jonny. Get up here!”

Pat reaches down and hauls Jonny back up to him, hands diving right under Jonny’s shirt, not caring he doesn’t give Jonny a chance to tuck him back into his pants. And fuck, can Pat feel his strong physique. If Pat had forgotten he was fucking with an athlete, he definitely remembers now. Pat makes quick work of Jonny’s shirt.

“ _Fuuuuck, Jonny_. Sit on me.”

Once he’s settled on Pat’s lap, Jonny grins down at him. “Are you just going to look… or?”

Pat takes that as a challenge. Instead of answering, Pat makes better use of his mouth and latches onto his left nipple, sucking hard. It gets him a yelp from Jonny who scrambles to find purchase with his fingers in Pat’s hair. Pat backs off for a moment, blowing on the hardened nub gently before he sucks on it again. Jonny’s making these ridiculous whimpering noises above him but Pat doesn’t stop – if anything it drives him to keep going.

“Pat, Pat, Pat,” Jonny gets out desperately, tugging on his hair to get Pat’s attention. “Fuck! Touch me.”

So Pat does. He lets go of Jonny’s nipple with an obscene _pop_ before reaching below for Jonny’s jeans. Jonny drops his body so their lips line up again and kisses Pat hard as soon as Pat curls his fist around Jonny’s cock. Jonny’s hard, precome pooled at the head so Pat smears it with his thumb.

“Fuck, Jonny.”

“Pat… Jesus, fuck!”

It absolutely kills him how responsive Jonny is. A flick of Pat’s thumb against Jonny’s cockhead has him writhing, a twist of his wrist has Jonny moaning against his lips. And Pat drinks it all in, heady and drunk off Jonny. It’s a shame it doesn’t last longer but neither of them care once Jonny shoots all over Pat’s stomach, just nearly missing his shirt. Jonny swears one last time before he slumps down against Pat’s body, resting their foreheads together. After a moment, Jonny ghosts a kiss over Pat’s lips.

“Come home with me.”

It’s the same words from earlier when Jonny sounded desperate to fuck Pat against the bar but now it’s different. Now it’s something Pat wants.

“Jonny…”

“Pat,” Jonny cuts him off with another kiss, this time with intent. “Just… Please?”

Pat closes his eyes and lets himself initiate the kiss this time, trying to convey to Jonny how much he wants this but…

“I’m still working though.”

Jonny laughs. “I’ll wait.”

“You’re here with your team.”

“So?”

When Pat glares at him Jonny laughs and reaches for his phone instead. “Gimmie your number. When you’re done you’re coming to my place.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

This time it’s Jonny’s face that grows serious. “Unless… unless you didn’t like…” and he finishes with a hand waving in between them.

“No, no!” Pat’s quick to reassure. “I did. I really fucking did, Jonny. But you’re-“

This time Jonny cuts him off with his fingers against his fingers. “Stop thinking about shit that doesn’t matter. Right now, I want to fuck you so hard you’ll feel it for days.” He bring his face closer to Pat’s, so close their noses brush lightly together. “Then, may you can do the same to me.”

Pat’s eyes flicker down to Jonny’s lips. “Jonny… Fuck, I want that so fucking bad.”

Jonny laughs. “Then gimmie your fucking number and get out the fuck out of work as quickly as you can.”

When they get back into the club much later, looking utterly ridiculous and disheveled , Ashley and Sharpie are wearing matching shit-eating grins. Pat will deal with them - and the consequences later.


End file.
